


Two Is Better Than One

by commanderclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Dad!Murphy, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Unexpected twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:35:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderclarke/pseuds/commanderclarke
Summary: Murphy is terrified to have kids. He wants to give his kid the best life he possibly can but he doesn’t think he can. But when he holds his child for the first time, that all changes.And then again, when his second (unexpected) child comes, everything he felt before is pushed aside.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	Two Is Better Than One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is honestly just something small I wanted to to for the dad!murphy discord group (also because I saw a tiktok of a dad seeing his child for the first time and it made me cry, not going to lie!) and now we’re left with this master fluff post !!! I hope you all enjoy it !!

Murphy was freaking out. Hands pulling at his hair, shaky knees and raw lips. He couldn’t stop biting, gnawing so hard they bled. He wasn’t sure how many times he leaned over the sink, spitting the blood out. He kept watching it swirl down the drain, water splashing against the sides.   


Sunday after Sunday. Too late in the night. Too early in the morning. His fears would crawl up inside him, digging themselves through so they could emerge in a nasty breakdown. 

And all of it was over a baby. Funny, isn’t it? How such a beautiful, wonderful little thing could bring so much anxiety that you found yourself hunched over a toilet, throwing up your entire dinner. 

Clarke was due in only a few days, and Murphy was fucking scared. 

He had been since the day she told him, but with the days inching closer, it became stronger. He would push that lump in his throat down during the day, only to have it come back up when he woke and rushed to the washroom. 

Murphy stared at himself in the mirror, hands attached to the sink, his knuckles almost as white as it. He had wanted this, wanted to be a dad and give a kid the life he never had. But now he wasn’t so sure because what if you messed up? What if having a kid ruined his relationship with Clarke?

Would he turn out like his parents?

Murphy rolled his lip between his teeth again, head swirling as the water had a moment ago. It always got too much when the house was at its quietest, when the sun went away and lights were shut off. Picasso slipping into his spot next to Clarke while Murphy pushed away from her. 

He wanted it to go away so badly. The memories and the feelings and all the gross stuff that he had trapped inside his chest. They were locked in a cage he had the key to, but they stayed still. Never to move because they had made him their home. 

He pulled at his hair again, too anxious to do anything else. Pull his hair, bite his lip and watch the tears roll down his cheeks. Like a race, one on his left side and one on the right. They often travelled together, but sometimes the right would win. 

Murphy laughed. What the hell was he doing? How pathetic did he look? He was sobbing in his bathroom all alone. He could be in bed, curling around Clarke as he listened to her breathing, petting Picssso as he fell back asleep. 

He could be having the best time because across the hall, with Clarke, was their unborn child. The little thing still inside her but there nonetheless. And he was there, in the bathroom. 

He was lucky, though. Because he had made it fifteen minutes before his chest moved a little faster and he was gasping for air, clawing at his chest. He was crying harder now, which didn't add to the fact that he was already having trouble breathing. 

He fell into the wall, sank down to the floor with his head in his hands and cried. He couldn’t do this. He could parent a child when he could barely take care of himself. 

He took a sharp breath in, choking on it as he gasped for another.  _ Fuck.  _ He wanted it to go away but it was only the beginning.

He kept thinking of all the bad things that could happen before he got to hold his child. He thought about them dying, never to have experienced the world. He thought about Clarke and how she could die too. She could give birth and die right after. Leaving him alone with the baby. 

Murphy sucked in a harsh breath, hands scratching at his scalp. That single thought was often the cause of his breakdowns, the cause of his panic attacks. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to have to say hello to his child and goodbye to the woman who he adored. 

Murphy, chest-heaving and sweat covered face, looked up when the door creaked open. An overtired Clarke walking through, rubbing at her eyes. She didn’t say anything. She never did. She just sat next to Murphy, taking him into her arms as he sobbed. He cried and cried and cried until his eyes were dry and nothing more came. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. He knew that. He was supposed to be strong and brave, the man who was there for his girlfriend while she was pregnant. But he was glass, fragile to the touch. And he had crashed, broken on the floor in a million shards. 

That left Clarke to pick up the pieces and put them back together as she always did. 

Murphy sniffled, head lifting to stare at Clarke. Her hair in a mess, looking shorter now than it did during the day. And her eyes. Her eyes misty and cold, resembling a late night rainfall. 

He wanted to fall into her arms again, feel her warmth and reminisce in the feeling of safety he felt when she was there with him. 

He opened his mouth, letting out incoherent sounds as he searched for something to say. But nothing came. Nothing ever did. 

Clarke knew this and took his hand, wrapping hers around and it and holding it to her chest. “You’re okay, I’m here. Nothings going to happen, okay?” 

Murphy nodded, still clinging onto her. She was right. More than right. He knew that. But it still didn’t make the fear disappear. 

He just wanted to skip all those stupid feelings and get to the good parts. To holding his kid for the first time, watching them with Clarke. Seeing her bounce the little thing around the house as she attempted to stop the crying. 

He wanted to skip to the part where they were going on road trips, going for Christmas at their aunt Ravens house. Or uncle Bellamys. He wanted to teach them how to swim and ride a bike and all those good things that came with having a kid. Murphy wanted to get right to that and avoid all the icky stuff in between. 

“I don’t like that you’re always having to comfort me...it makes me feel like an ass,” Murphy mumbled after a while. Clarke had a hand weaved through his hair, nails scratching at his head. “You are an ass...not for this, but you are and I still love you.”

Murphy laughed. She never failed to say what she was thinking, even in a time like that and he loved it. Loved her. “Yeah, I love you too.” 

He pulled himself out of her lap, sitting cross-legged in front of her. Their knees touching, her hands resting in her lap. He snuggled again then reached between them, hand pressing to her belly. 

There was no movement but he enjoyed it. Thinking that maybe the baby knew its father was there and how much he was going to love them. “I’m scared but I also want to see them.”

Clarke had placed a hand over his, “me too. I’m worried like hell...but I also just want to be able to finally hold them.”

Murphy hummed in response, standing to his feet after a moment. Clarke watched as he stretched an arm out to help her up, carefully pulling her to her feet when she grabbed it. 

“I think we should go to bed,” Murphy whispered, kissing her cheek, “I’m tired.”

Clarke nodded, her hand in his as they stood in the dimly lit bathroom. “And I’m sorry, I know I haven’t been all there the last few months...but I love you.”

Clarke snuggled into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. “It’s okay Murphy, I just need to know you’re alright.”

He nodded against her. 

He would be okay. He knew that, Clarke knew that, all of their friends knew that. It was obviously some first-time parent anxiety crossed with the fear he would turn into his parents. But they all still had faith in him. 

And that’s all he could think about when they crawled back into bed, Clarke curling into his chest as he held her. Hand in her head, one under his pillow. He would be a good dad. He would love his child and give them everything they needed to succeed in this world. And he’d support them through everything, every decision. 

Most importantly though, he would love them. And nothing about who they were going to be in the future would ever change that because he would still love his kid. 

So Murphy drifted off to sleep, anxious but excited because everything would change in a matter of days and it would all be for the best. 

And he was okay with the fear for now because he knew he would forget about all these dumb feelings he had when he got to hold them. 

Only then would it all make sense. 

*****

The next few days had passed in a flash. Clarke added some finishing details to their room and the babies. Murphy got to work in the garden and the kitchen. Cleaning everything up, cooking dinner. They watched movies and talked about how excited they were. About future holidays or vacations, they might take. 

Murphy gave Clarke more massages when her feet or back was hurting. They took their dog, Picasso on a walk. And they slept. They had slept as best as they could because, in a short amount of time, sleep would be scarce. 

Then the due date rolled around and they waited. They waited for anything to happen. But nothing did. And really, they should have expected that. Babies are often late, so it wasn’t abnormal. It was quite common, actually. But that didn’t stop the two from cuddling on the couch, moping together because they were tired. Clarke of being pregnant, and Murphy of waiting. 

They wanted to have their child home and in their arms. They didn’t want to wait any longer. Waiting sucked. 

“They aren’t even here and are already a pain in the ass,” Clarke huffed. Murphy laughed and nuzzled his face into her shoulder, placing a chaste kiss on her neck. “Sorry, that’s probably my genes.”

“You think?” Clarke retorted, snuggling in closer to his chest. 

“You wanted to have kids. More specifically with me,” Murphy pointed out. Clarke rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the side as he laughed. 

“Ow...I’m right though. You, Clarke Griffin, wanted me. Now you have to deal with a stubborn little pain in the ass.”

“I already deal with a stubborn little pain in the ass,” Clarke shot back. He only shrugged, kissing her forehead. 

An old movie was on the TV, one Murphy had watched a hundred times during Clarke’s pregnancy. One that he had no interest in but it made her happy so he once again groaned in protest while putting it on. Clarke grinned as she did every time, knowing she would always win. 

Murphy had zoned out when Clarke started talking again, dragging his attention back down to her, “You should try to carry a baby for this long only for them to not want to come out on time.” 

“If this is your way of saying you want to get me pregnant...it’s working. Where and when?” Murphy smirked, earning another unpleasant elbow to his side. 

“It sucks, okay?” Clarke shifted her weight, now half across the couch and facing him. “I’m uncomfortable all the time. And hungry all the time, oh and guess what? I have to pee all the time! I love this kid but I’m just so tired.” 

“Hey, the baby will be here soon and this part,” Murphy gestured to the bump, “will be over.”

Clarke’s head fell forward, landing against his chest. “Ugh.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too.”

Smiling, Murphy ran his free hand through her hair, fingers going through knots. The movie went on in the background, the noise of Clarke’s breathing and Picasso’s snores drowning it out. Murphy felt at peace. 

“Do you think we should have found out of it was a boy or a girl?” Clarke broke the silence again, eyes locked on Murphy as she waited for an answer. 

He smiled and kissed her, hovering over her lips as he spoke. “No. We wanted a surprise and we kept with it.”

Clarke shrugged, having second thoughts about not finding out. But Murphy was right. They  _ did _ want to wait until the day they were born, so they could find out like that. It had been a plan since before she was even pregnant. Though a part of her still wished she knew. 

Clarke turned more in his lap, practically facing him; and just stared. A loose smile tugging at her lips, a finger trailing his jaw. 

She was tired. She was tired of building cribs and dressers and everything they needed for the arrival of their child. But she could never get tired of Murphy and his messy brown hair that always fell into his eyes when leaning down. Or his vibrant blue eyes that—even when he too was exhausted—were still alive and wild in the weirdest way. 

Clarke loved him with every fibre in her body. Which was honestly as big of a surprise for her and Murphy as it was their friends. Since they had gone from basically hating each other to loving each other. But once they got past that threshold, they never wanted to leave each other’s side. They spent days going to the beach, carnivals (Murphy won her one of those stuffed animals on a “date”). They would go for walks and get ice cream. 

It was a nice but sudden change. All their other friends were glad they were finally getting along. Until they found out the two of them were getting along a little too well. Raven had been the first to find out when she walked in on them, Murphy on top of her (and yes they had clothes on). It had gone from there and everyone started to find out and they decided they didn’t want to hide it anymore. So they became an official couple. 

Then they talked about kids at some point, briefly. Murphy said he needed some time and Clarke respected that. They waited for a while. That was until Clarke found out she was. When they weren’t even trying for a kid. It was shocking, to say the least, but they said that they wanted to go through with it, even if it hadn’t been their original plan. 

Clarke thought back to that day when Murphy walked through the door and she was standing there. The pregnancy test behind her back as she tried to contain her tears. She couldn’t. She had started sobbing immediately and Murphy rushed to her, asking what was wrong. She only shoved it into his hands. 

He had started crying too. 

“Do you remember when I told you?” Clarke looked up again. Murphy nodded, not needing any more information on what she was talking about. 

“Of course. It was a thrill—yes terrifying—but still the happiest day. Next to meeting you...and eventually them.” Murphy ran his hand over her bump, another kick coming through. Clarke placed hers over his. Nothing would beat that feeling. 

“Hey my little man…or little girl,” Murphy started, leaning in closer to Clarkes stomach, “your mommy and daddy love you very much. More than you’ll ever know.” 

Clarke smiled and pulled Murphy up, kissing him hard. A long and hard kiss. 

She wanted to remember the taste of his lips for as long as possible, the feel of his hands against her. Not in a sexual way, but how they were. Planted right above where their child was curled up inside her. 

She wanted to remember what it was like to dig her fingers through his hair, pulling lightly as he kissed again. The taste of toothpaste and what Clarke knew was chocolate from her late-night binge. A weird combination, she was sure, but she didn’t care. 

It didn’t matter to her because the tingling on her lips she felt as he pulled back always left her wanting more. More of him, all him. She never wanted to let him go, to share him. He was her Murphy. And she was more than glad that they were planning on spending the rest of their lives together. 

“Murphy…” Clarke’s eyes wandered up to his, their noses brushing against each other as she whispered, “I’m kinda tired.”

“Me too...let’s head to bed.” 

It wasn’t long before the two went to bed, falling asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. The pre-parenting duties constantly taking their energy out of them.

Though it wasn’t a long sleep, and they both wished it was, because almost on cue, Clarke woke up at three in the morning. The difference then though, was that Murphy was still there, snuggled into the pillows and blankets. Not having another breakdown in the bathroom. 

She wondered if the baby had gotten used to the schedule and was now following it. Not putting too much thought into it, Clarke sighed and threw the blankets off, climbed out of bed and headed to the washroom. She somehow felt wide away now and wasn’t sure when she would be falling back asleep so she used the washroom then walked into the kitchen, Picasso trotting right behind her. 

She sat for a while, the darkness combined with the silence giving her some peace. Which was weird, she thought, because as a kid she was terrified of the dark. Now it was calming. A time to relax away from the world. From work and people and soon a kid. 

She thought about a lot in that time. About Murphy and their kid. About their friends and how supportive they were. She also thought about work and what would happen when she had to go back and leave her kid behind. It was going to be hard. 

Clarke shook her head and stood up, forgetting about all of it in favour of heading back to bed. 

She didn’t make it too far before realizing something was off. 

Her eyes fell to her legs and the floor.

She gulped. It was happening. Her water had just broken.  _ Holy shit _ . This was happening now? At three in the morning? This was definitely Murphy’s kid. 

She hurried back to the bedroom, being careful not to trip over a now very worried Picasso, and attempted to wake Murphy. “Murphy, baby please wake up. Murphy, come on.” Clarke kept shaking him. 

Murphy rolled around, eyes hazily blinking open. “Clarke, what are you doing? Come back to bed.”

He stretched his arms out towards her, trying to pull her back in despite her protests. “No, Murphy. My water broke.” 

Murphy mumbled something incoherent and rolled over once more before the words registered in his brain.  _ Her water broke _ . His eyes sprang open, “What?!”

Jumping out of bed, he grabbed ahold of Clarke, steadying himself more than her and started muttering a list of things they needed. “Okay, we need the bag. The baby bags. The ones we set aside if this happened. Where are they? We need them. Oh, and you. You need to get in the car, I’ll drive, obviously—“

“Murphy,” Clarke cupped his cheek, the panic visibly setting in, “breathe, okay? It’ll be fine. We’ll just go, c’mon.”

Murphy shook his head. This was what they had been preparing for and yet his nerves were betraying him. He had hyped himself up for this moment multiple times, but none of those fake scenarios he played out were helping him now. 

Now he was worried and scared for a whole list of reasons that he still somehow was able to run through in his head. They were having a baby. Now. Right now. Well, not  _ right now. _ They were still standing in their bedroom, Clarke’s pants in need of changing and—they were still standing there. 

Fuck. They had to go. 

Murphy tugged on her sleeve, pulling her into the hall. “Okay, we’ll get there as soon as possible.”

Clarke stopped abruptly, holding a hand over her stomach as a contraction came on. It ripped through her in a matter of a few seconds before she was able to stand up straight again. The pain was still there, but better than before. 

“You okay?” Murphy grabbed a hold of her shoulders. She nodded, pushing past him to the door. 

“I just want to get out,” Clarke replied. Murphy sucked in a breath and searched for his keys as Clarke struggled to put on her shoes. 

He checked his jacket and then the cubby of the rack. He checked the small table next to it and even their plant. Because yes, he once dropped them in there. 

But they weren’t there. 

How did he always lose his keys? They never seemed to be in the same spot. Even if he swears he left them on their table, they seemed to disappear. 

Sometimes they were on the table at the front door. Sometimes they were in the kitchen. Or their bedroom. Or even the bathroom and one time he had lost them in the garden—what was he looking for again?

His keys. Right. Murphy moved the flyers off the table, pulling out the draw and rummaging through them. Fuck.  _ Where were they? _

“Okay, give me a minute, they’re probably in the living room again.” Murphy ran further into the house, barely listening to Clarke’s failed attempt at answering as she was still bent over, groaning as she pulled the first shoe on. 

Murphy started with the dining room table. Moving the mess of clothes and books around. They weren’t there so he moved onto the coffee table, pushing aside magazines and cookbooks. Random lists of baby names they had been looking at again recently. 

They weren’t there either. 

So then he hurried into the kitchen. Checking the counters and the island. Moving their bowl of fake fruit and paper towels and tossing his keys aside to try and find his—his keys! There they were! He grabbed them and ran back to the front where Clarke was leaning against the door frame, out of breath. 

He came up beside her, rubbing her back. “There you go, you good?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke breathed, barely able to speak, “I think our kid is going to be here sooner than we think so we should probably go—ah fuck.” 

She dropped her head onto Murphy’s chest, hands clutching onto his shirt. 

“It hurts,” Clarke choked out, tears forming in her eyes. Murphy sighed, rubbing her lower back a little more. 

“Okay, let’s get you to the car and get going. I don’t want you having one here or in the car.” Clarke agreed with that, heading out the door with Murphy right behind her. 

He started the car and backed out, heading for the hospital. 

His hands were sweating. His face was sweating. His whole body felt like there was a thin layer of sweat all over and it was disgusting. But he couldn’t complain now because as he drove as fast as the speed limit would let him—though he was going fifteen over, but no one was around anyway—Clarke was hunched over, hand gripping her seatbelt. 

“Clarke, here,” he stretched his hand across the console, reaching for her other one. Clarke grabbed it immediately, squeezing tightly as she threw her head back, clearly uncomfortable. 

Murphy wanted to cry. He wanted to cry for many reasons, his kid being on the way being a major one, but also because Clarke was in extreme amounts of pain that he could never experience. 

He couldn’t take it away or make it better. And when he thought about it, he was responsible for that pain. He got her pregnant, not that she minded. But now he had to watch her, sitting next to him in their old car with her face scrunched up and eyes shut. 

He had to watch the road and wait for lights and pretend like it was all going to be worth it. And yeah, it most definitely would be worth it in the end. After all, he’d be able to hold his child. But that didn’t stop the fact that he felt terrible. 

He wanted to take it all away. To make Clarke feel okay. Make sure she was relaxed and fine. Take away the crease in her eyebrow, or the tears that ran down her cheeks. 

That wasn’t possible. He would just have to wait until they were in the hospital, and she was giving birth and then it’d be over. However long that took. 

He was hoping it would go easy. And quick. Because the last thing he needed was for either her or their baby to get hurt or to die. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if either happened. 

_ Okay _ , Murphy thought,  _ two more blocks.  _

It was so close, the blue H sign coming into view at a stoplight. It was so close and yet it felt so far away. How come it looked so far? It hadn’t been this long of a trip a year ago.

The hospital used to come and go just as fast. In seconds, passing as every other tree or house did. Now it felt like hours. He could see the lights but his brain was tired and his eyes were fuzzy. Or wet. Was he crying? When did that start?

Murphy pulled into a spot and hopped out when he arrived, running around to Clarke’s side. She had opened her door, swung her leg out and was trying to get out on her own. 

“Clarke, what are you doing!?” Murphy asked wide-eyed and panic in his voice. He grabbed her arm, helping her the rest of the way out.

“I could have done it,” She argued, hand going to her stomach right away, rubbing circles where the baby was sitting. 

Murphy walked her through the doors, hand on her back, “what’s with you being so stubborn?”

“It’s just who I am,” she laughed, grimacing when some pain came back. How many contractions would happen? A lot, probably. Murphy assumed, at least. 

Maybe he should have read up more on the labour process, instead of spending months obsessing over the right furniture. Or the cutest baby names. Middle names too! 

Or finding the best recipes that he could share with his kid. Because apparently, that was important to Murphy. More than researching how much god-awful pain Clarke would be in. 

Though he did recall Raven and her sitting him down and forcing him to watch a birthing video. Far before they even liked each other, let alone started dating or got pregnant. 

All he could remember was how gross everything looked. And the blood. There was so much blood. 

Murphy shivered at that thought as he called for a nurse. It didn’t take long for them to get settled into a room, Clarke in a gown with a machine set up to track how she was doing. Murphy sitting exhausted in a chair near her, hand in hers as she laid there. 

The contractions were still coming and going and their baby would be there soon. But for now, Murphy could breathe. He could breathe because Clarke was okay and she was there with people who could keep an eye on her. 

And Clarke was laying there, staring at him like she was still so in love despite the pain. Then she spoke, “you’re going to fucking pay for this.”

Well, that was not what he expected her to say. But it was fair. She was about to push a whole person out of a tiny hole in her body. It was very fair. 

“I love you too,” Murphy replied, leaning over the railing, resting his head against it. She smiled again. 

“I’m serious,” Clarke tried again, giving him a tired angry face that fell into drooping eyes and a weak grin.

“Okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, sweat coming off on his lips. He didn’t care though. He didn’t care about how she looked (though she kept insisting she looked horrible). In his eyes, she was beautiful, even at that very moment. No matter what she looked like, what she was wearing. None of that mattered to him.

Murphy pushed her sweaty hair aside, hand cupping her cheek, “there’s going to be three of us soon. Not too long from now.”

Clarke nodded, lips turning up as she settled into the feel of his hand. “Yeah.”

Time after that passed in a blur. Murphy’s mind racing a thousand miles a second. They had gone on little walks around the hospital. Played some games when Clarke was back in bed. Made jokes. Not much, but they did what they could with the time they had. 

Then Clarke was in labour. The baby deciding it finally wanted to make an entrance into the world. 

Murphy knew he would remember that moment for the rest of his life. The picture of him at Clarke’s side, her hand in his as she gave birth. He was still scared. Those late-night thoughts he had for months coming back.

It was hours. Hours of Clarke cursing him and telling him he was an ass for what he did. Then automatically saying she loved him and giving him that shaky smile, to which he’d kiss away. The pain came back right after that, most times, and so the cursing came back too. 

Murphy didn’t care. Not one bit. 

It was taking so long, full of curses and cries and Clarke digging her nails into his hand. 

And all during that, Murphy thought. He thought about everything he thought before. On those late nights when he was tossing and turning in bed. Those days when he was cleaning out what used to be their office. And those early days when Clarke came home from work, and he was making dinner in the kitchen. 

They all came flooding back. Hitting him like a wave and bringing him under. 

Parenting would be hard. More than hard. It would kick his ass and he knew that. But every time he looked back to Clarke, watching her every move. The tired look on her face as her head fell against the pillow, her hair stuck to the side of her neck. Lip quivering and her hand squeezing his. 

It all made sense. 

Murphy was so in love with Clarke and was thrilled they were about to start their lives with a baby. That lump in his throat disappeared, the anxiety calmed down a little, and his lips grew more. 

He felt on top of the world after a few hours, relishing in his calming thoughts. Then his stomach dropped when Clarke spoke, a sob escaping when she did. “I...I can't do this. Murphy, I—it’s too much.”

“You got this, okay?”

The doctors tried to encourage her to push again, but she only shook her head, eyes not leaving Murphy for even a second. “No...I can’t. Everything hurts.”

“Clarke, look at me,” Murphy repositioned himself, hovering above her now, “I know it’s hard, but I’m right here. You got this, you hear me? You’re a Griffin. You’re strong and amazing and you’re going to be the best mother to our child. You can do this, baby. You so got this, you hear me?”

Clarke had already been crying before, but Murphy saw more tears fall down her face. He held his urge to reach up and wipe them away, favouring her hand that was slipping out of his. “I love you, so much.”

Murphy smiled through his tears and kissed her once more. Tears and sweat, that’s all there was. Not the best kiss, but also the greatest. The best one they could have shared because it was the last one they shared before the crying broke through the room, silencing everyone but a sobbing Clarke and Murphy.

They had done it.  _ She _ had done it. Their child was here. In the doctor's arms. So small. Murphy lifted his head, watching as the doctor held them up, the words echoing in his head as he stared. “It’s a boy.”

He had a boy. John Murphy was having a kid. He had a kid and it was a boy. A little Griffin-Murphy. Their little boy. Murphy glanced back to Clarke, feeling so much happiness and pride in that moment, staring at the girl he was so in love with. The mother of his child. The mother of his child who was  _ finally _ here. 

He was shaking. Nine months of waiting brought them there, to that room, to that bed. Doctors and nurses surrounding them, their friends in a waiting room down the hall. 

He was finally here. He was here. They handed the baby over, not wrapped, to Clarke. She grabbed him, pulling him to her chest. Murphy felt like his whole world stopped at that moment. Blonde hair, blue eyes. A bald little head bobbing up and down as he cried. 

A baby. A real baby.  _ Their _ baby. Holy shit. Murphy laughed, ignoring every nurse and doctor in the room. They didn’t exist in his world. No. His world was right in front of him. Naked and kind of gross but he wouldn’t share those thoughts aloud. 

A voice broke through his thought, words too foreign. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t even sound like English. “Okay, we’re going to take him to clean him up and so you can keep going, alright?”

Their son was already being taken from Clarke’s arms before either of them could begin to register what the doctor had said.  _ Keep going? _ What was he talking about? Their baby was here. They wanted to hold him and spend time with him, there were no other babies.

Was there?

“What are you talking about?” Murphy had dropped Clarke’s hand and was now standing by the end of the bed. The doctor looked between the two, realizing the situation that was more common than not. 

“I see you two weren’t aware. Well, it happens quite a bit, actually. When you go for an ultrasound and one kid is hiding the other,” he let out a laugh, “You guys are having twins.”

Murphy’s facial expression mirrored Clarke’s. Wide-eyed, jaw dropped. And his heart, he was certain it was going to jump out of his chest. They didn’t plan for this. They had clothes for one kid. A crib for one kid. One highchair. One dresser. One everything.

They were supposed to be having one kid. Not two. One. 

Holy shit. They were about to have two kids. How was Murphy supposed to not panic over that when he had been freaking out for months over one kid? Months on end he had been worried about making one kid's life worthwhile, not he had two. Two! 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. This would change a lot. Everything, actually. They would need more. Another crib, more clothes, another highchair. They needed so much more. Things that they didn’t have. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Murphy sucked in a breath, running a hand through his very sweaty hair. Okay. they got this, right? That was what Clarke was always telling him. They could do this. Yeah, it was a big surprise but they get two. He was going to meet his second child. One he didn’t know about, but that didn’t matter.

Turning to Clarke, he smiled. A genuine, joy and fear-filled smile. “We got this, you got this. I love you.”

With a short nod, Clarke was pushing again. A few minutes between each, so many thoughts still going through their head. They were having a baby.

“ _ Push _ .”

They were having two babies. Twins.

“ _ Push _ .”

Two was about to turn into four. Four. they were going to have twins. 

“ _ Push _ .”

Murphy let out a choked sob. This was happening. He was about to be a dad for the second time after being a dad for only three minutes.

“ _ Push _ .”

The cries. The cries of his second child. Murphy breathed. He had two children. Two healthy and alive children. And Clarke was okay. They were all okay. They were safe. Holy. shit. 

Clarke was holding their second child. There were more tears. So many tears. Murphy was sure he had never cried this much in his entire life. And wouldn't be able to cry for a while after. But that was okay because he had another kid. 

“Hi, baby girl.” Clarke ran a finger down their daughter's face. A daughter. He had a son and a daughter. 

They took the baby away to go clean her up and to be with her brother while everything else got sorted out and Clarke finished by pushing the placenta out. 

When everything got cooled down and Clarke was able to sit up properly, the nurses brought their kids over. Son and daughter. Clarke was handed their son, and Murphy had their daughter. 

He couldn’t stop staring at her. A little nose and little fingers. Head full of brown hair while her brother was bald. 

Murphy ran an oversized thumb across her soft cheek, choking on his breath. She was beautiful. Everything he wanted and more. And his son, so small in Clarke’s arm, yawning as she whispered to him. 

Murphy was sobbing. Uncontrollable, shoulder shaking and teeth dug until his lip sobbing. He wasn’t sure how to process his emotions, not for something as big as having a kid. Having two kids. And words. He couldn’t put it into a proper sentence. 

All he knew was that he was happy and his kids were healthy and Clarke was there. Her free hand running through his hair, her tears still there too. “Murphy…”

He glanced up, his eyes red and puffy. His lip swollen. She smiled again. “You have to go tell the others, bring them in here.”

He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with Clarke and his children. Sing them to sleep and kiss them so much they shoved their tiny fists into his face. But Clarke was right. The others should know. That’s why they were there. 

And now there was a little surprise. 

Murphy handed the tiny bundle over to Clarke and nodded, heading out of the room and down the hall. 

How would he tell the others? He wanted it to sound dramatic. That was Murphy, after all. But how would he do that? Maybe he should scare them a little. Or maybe that was a little mean. 

Though that was in Murphy fashion. 

He rounded the corner and suddenly he couldn’t speak. Everyone was there. More people than he could call at three in the morning (which was only Abby, Kane and Bellamy). But Murphy stared at every single one of his friends sitting there, not even looking a bit tired. 

Bellamy. He knew it was him who must have called the others up. And Murphy was thankful for that because he was pretty sure that Harper and Monty would kill him if they missed it. 

He was so beyond happy and thankful. Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Miller, Harper, Monty, Jasper and Echo. Even some of their more distant friends were there. Gaia, Niylah and Jackson. They were all there. 

Murphy bit his lip, watching as his friends sat on the edge of their chairs, waiting for the news from him. “She’s okay, Clarke. And our son.” 

They cheered, laughing as some leaned over to others, saying the other owed them twenty dollars. Murphy spoke again, “our daughter is too.”

Yeah. Murphy should have expected the surprised silence that followed that announcement. 

Raven was the first to comment. “Jeez Murphy, you think Clarke would’ve let you get her pregnant if she knew you’d knock her up twice at once?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Octavia laughed over the chatter that broke out. Murphy chuckled, shaking his head at all of them. 

“Okay, okay,” Murphy shushed the group, “Abby, Kane. You guys first…and Bellamy and Raven. Then the rest of you can come in turns.”

Murphy’s smile never fell once as he led them down the hallway. Kane and Abby gushing to each other about how cute they would be. Raven making jokes about them having twins and how her and Echo had called it. 

Bellamy was pushing Raven off to the side at every comment. Kane had something to say about that because he was their dad as much as he was Clarke’s stepdad. 

None of it could erase the grin stretched across his face because none of it was important. Only his son, daughter and girlfriend were important to him. 

Murphy shoved open the door, allowing his friends to pass through. Each of them immediately in awe as they saw their kids in Clarke’s arms. 

Staying back, Murphy watched them take the babies and gawk over how much they looked like Clarke or Murphy. She had Clarke’s nose and he had Murphy’s. He had the same little mole as Clarke and she had the same messy brown hair as Murphy. 

Murphy smiled one last time from behind the group, ecstatic about how his life was going to look from there on out. 

Madi Griffin-Murphy and Toby Griffin-Murphy. 

His two little angels. And Clarke. His girlfriend, and maybe soon his wife. If she said yes. 

He was hoping she would. But that was something he could worry about another day because, at that moment, nothing else mattered. Only them. 

Yeah. He was right where he wanted to be. 

  
  



End file.
